


Apple

by MomoGeraldine



Series: Al Ghul [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bad Parent Ra's al Ghul, Bad Person Ra's al Ghul, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Gen, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Parent Talia al Ghul, Protective Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul Tries, Ra's cares, Talia al Ghul Tries, but he has no idea, he doesn't know what he does, he gives free trauma, he's stuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomoGeraldine/pseuds/MomoGeraldine
Summary: “Eat the spoiled one.”The man ordered.Prince looked at the apple, observed his grandfather, and asked:“Do I eat the whole thing?”
Relationships: Mara al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne
Series: Al Ghul [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036101
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	Apple

“Why?”

The question echoed through the room, as the boy, only four years old asked. As the question hung in the air, everybody was silent, nobody questions the man in green.

“Why what?”

the man in green sneered at the boy. Discontent all over his face.

“Why behead her?”

The boy daringly inquired, knowing full well it could end up badly. The mother of the boy, besides the man in green, glared her disapproval at her son, for his choices. The boy ignored his mother, as he dared to look his grandfather for the answer. 

The boy’s uncle was however silently judging the situation and the boy’s cousin gleefully yet anxiously watched the situation unfold. 

The man in green was unreadable. As he observed his grandson, punishment, or answer. What to choose?

As the man in green pondered, the victim of his rage pleaded:

“Please let me undo my mistake, give me another chance to correct it...”

_I didn’t mean it_ went unsaid.

There weren’t many people who betrayed Ra’s al Ghul, those who did never made it out alive, the woman being one of them.

The woman had been working with an outside source, giving information away. The woman also had been one of the teachers to the four-year-old prince, teaching him history. While the woman was boring, specifically lessons were, she was always up for mischief and taught the little prince on that department. The mischief was small, secret but fun.

The woman begged:

“I can help you, please-”

The man in green started to have a headache with all the begging, so he commanded:

“Give my grandson a hatchet.”

The woman realizing why just started to cry harder, whispering _no,_ and muttering nonsense.

The boy’s mother trying to soften the punishment:

“Father-”

As the servant gave the young boy a hatchet, the man in green coldly orders next:

“Kneel, traitor.”

The traitor did just that, new tears threatening to fall over the dry ones. She kneeled, with an ashamed posture.

It was a public execution, a reminder.

The four-year-old is confused, why did he have to behead her? His chest pounding hard, his hands shaking, pounding in his head. _Why, why, why, why, why, why, why._ It didn’t stop, he didn’t understand it.

The cold voice is heard:

“I’ll give you an answer, once you behead her.”

The voice sends a chill through everybody in the room, the order was final.

Everybody watched, observed.

Grandfather’s cold gaze.

Mother’s worried posture, you wouldn’t see it, unless you knew her.

Cousin’s gleeful smile.

Uncle’s indifference.

A child no bigger than a four-year-old, holding an ax bigger than his hands. Forced to behead his first friend and friendliest mentor.

As the boy slowly walks to the traitor, putting on a face of indifference.

The woman slowly accepting her fate, as the servant forced her head on the block, shoving her long hair so the neck would be seen. A better hit.

It’s the boy’s first human kill. He wasn’t ready for it. He’s aware that everyone is watching, you wouldn’t be allowed otherwise.

It’s something you can’t turn away from. A twisted entertainment, the smart would call it. Some enjoy the view, others wish to preserve the innocence of the child and some just want to look away. 

It’s painful, can’t he finish it any faster?

As the boy stands beside the traitor, he’s unsure, he’s seen, countless people beheaded, read about it, what should he do it? How should he do it? He wants to make it quick, he’s aware he’s not the one for the job. He won’t be able to make it quick, he’s little. He’s aware. He’s a child, he’s not a child, he’s a child, he’s not a child, he can’t decide.

Like his mother, the son doesn’t act like it, you wouldn’t see it unless you know him, you wouldn’t see his confidence wavering.

As he raises his hatchet, the woman whispers:

_“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”_

The hatchet hits her neck, it didn’t kill her.

The hatchet hits her neck twice, her screams are bloody.

The hatchet hits her neck thrice, she dies.

As the boy, only four-years-old looks over to his grandfather.

His mother suddenly by his side, her manicured hand on his head. Boy doesn’t notice it.

The old man calm voice commands:

“Hafeez, Mara, tomorrow, at 4 am, meet me in the gardens.”

And that’s about it.

Servants clean the floor and body. Uncle left, grandfather looks the scene over and leaves to his studies. Muttering about bats and detectives? Clearly in his mind.

Mara, the cousin, only smirks, shows tongue at him, and leaves.

Only the mother stays, silent. 

Suddenly the boy feels like he’s been lifted, taken away, he doesn’t understand why he reacts this way, he’s killed animals scarier than this yet he feels like he’s drowning. _Why, why, why, why, why, why._ Echoing in his mind. He didn’t understand any of it.

He buries his face in his mother’s neck, not crying, never crying. He’s numb, doesn’t hold his mother but his mother is not letting her son go, holds him, never letting go.

As the mother walks, carrying her child, her baby. None of the servants say a word. Nothing is deadlier than the wrath of a parent, of a mom.

“You’re growing up fast, _Damian._ ”

The mother states after the silence, voice laced with hidden adoration and love.

Four-year-old only listens silently.

Ra’s al Ghul has gardens. Multiple yet he favors only one. When he refers to gardens, he means only one.

This garden is gorgeous, medium-sized, exotic. It’s colorful. It’s in Arabian style. It’s bright green grass, perfectly cut, there are purple, red and white flowers. It’s square. In the middle of it is a tent, where you can see uncle reading a book on one of the stools. The tent is white-colored, while the stuff inside the tent is red and gold in color.

Surrounding the tent are few apple trees and orange trees.

As the four-year-old looks around the garden, observing. His cousin comes around.

“Good morning, cousin. Hope you had bad dreams.”

Mara chirps.

The boy is ready to attack his cousin, however, he feels somebody behind him.

The elder greets them with a nod:

“Mara, Hafeez.”

His voice betraying nothing. Noting the two four-year-olds, who were ready to attack each other just a second away.

“Grandfather.”

The two cousins greet their grandfather, worshipping the man in their mind.

“I have a lesson for you both today. I need you to collect apples in these baskets, those who have more fresh apples will get a free day.”

The man said, with no room to argue. As he gave the four-year-olds two baskets. One of them had a rotten apple in it. Nobody asked about it.

As the cousins went collect fresh apples, with help of a few servants, though mostly independently. 

The man in green mostly doing gardening work, as he waits for them, he missed nature.

As the hours passed on the beautiful summer day, there was soft giggling heard and birds sung.

It was 6 am, the man in green called:

“Time’s up, show me, what you got.”

As the cousins went inside the tent, the servants put the basket on the table.

The man in green analyzed the baskets, cousins were not afraid to disappoint yet were anxious.

“Hafid, your basket has rotten apples in it. Mara, you get a free day.”

The elder claimed calmly.

The four-year-old was confused, how did he lose while his cousin was having a party in her head.

“What do you mean I have rotten apples? When I collected them, they were fresh…”

The boy didn’t think twice, before asking.

The older man had a gleam in his eyes, it wasn’t a murderous gleam, more akin to being proud.

“You had a rotten apple in your basket, the apple being close vicinity with the fresh apples, affected them rotten.”

The man in green explained.

“If you don’t rid the rotten apple, it affects the others, come here, let me show you.”

The man ordered.

Mara, being curious, followed the boy to their grandfather, to see it.

The man in green took one rotten apple from Damian’s basket and put it in Mara’s basket.

Children, curious, silently wondered why.

“Wait and observe.”

That was all the old man said.

Some hours and a few minutes later.

Two apples had brown spots, affected by one rotten apple.

“I see it.”

The boy claimed.

“Where? Let me see!”

The girl inquired.

As the children spoke, they didn’t see the soft look cast on them by their grandfather. 

“To run a clean empire, we need to rid rotten apples, that includes traitors.”

The man explained as he took the three rotten apples from Mara’s basket, giving them to the servants to put in the compost.

The boy nodded in understanding. He got the answer to his question.

The man in green took four apples from Damian's basket, one spoiled. The other three he took from Mara's basket.

He gave the one fresh apple to Mara.

Mara thanked him and went to do other things.

The man in green then gave one rotten apple to the little prince.

“Eat the spoiled one.”

The man ordered.

Prince looked at the apple, observed his grandfather, and asked:

“Do I eat the whole thing?”

“One big bite would suffice unless you want to eat the whole thing.”

Grandfather humored himself.

The boy nodded and took one big bite. He tried not to show how disgusting it was but failed.

Grandfather only smiled in approval, ordered a servant to take all the spoiled apples, including the one in the little prince’s hands.

He kneeled and gave him the other fresh apple and said his lesson:

“Remember, Hafeez, _clean out the “rotten apple” of sin, lest it spoils the whole barrel_.”

The boy only nodded, as he saw his grandfather’s green eyes meet his own green eyes, his future.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Ra's leaves without a word.
> 
> Opinions & criticism are welcome.


End file.
